The Reluctant Auror
by mercurybard
Summary: Artemis Dumbledore, niece of the famous wizard, walked away from her job as an Auror three years ago and adopted a pack of children destined to be wizards. Set during the events of Harry Potter's 4th year at Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them. Please don't sue me.

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"Mom, can I get a dragon?"

Artemis Dumbledore looked up from where she had been trying to compute the month's expenses. One of her foster daughters, Laurel, was standing in the doorway, a pleading look on her small, round face. "The Warlocks' Convention of 1709 outlawed dragon ownership in Britain, honey. You know that." She dipped her quill pen in the inkwell and then scratched out another quick calculation while her daughter rallied herself to make a counterargument.

"But _Mom_…" The child managed to drag "Mom" out for eight syllables.

"Laurel, I'm not in the mood," Artemis said, setting down the quill and fixing the eleven-year-old with her best glare. "Keeping a dragon as a pet is illegal, and, in this house, we obey the law."

Laurel's lower lip jutted out far enough that Artemis could have landed a broom on it. "The law's stupid."

"Pull your lip in—pouting isn't going to impress me. And, actually, that particular law isn't stupid. Tell me, missy, when this dragon of yours got to be full grown, how were you planning on hiding it from Muggles?"

"I'd train her to stay away from them." That answer sounded like it had been pre-rehearsed…which meant Laurel had been thinking about this pet dragon for quite a while. Which, knowing the eleven-year-old, meant that she had actually researched dragon care and anything else she thought pertinent. This meant that she knew about the Warlocks' Convention of 1709 and their ruling but decided to ignore it. Artemis bit back a sigh—Laurel was an extremely bright girl, if she would just choose to use her powers for good once in a while.

"Dragons are wild creatures, honey, you can't train them. Not reliably. How about you start thinking of a pet you can really get—like an owl or a toad? You start at Hogwarts in a little over a month, and first-years are allowed to bring a small pet."

"A baby dragon's small…" Laurel said, but Artemis could see the wheels turning in Laurel's head as the little girl weighed her options. After a minute, she nodded (somewhat reluctantly). "All right, Mom."

"Good." Artemis picked up her quill again, glad that little disaster had been adverted…at least for the time being. She had a gut feeling that this was not the last time she would hear about dragons from Laurel. "Decide what you want, and we'll try to find one when we go to Diagon Alley next week."

Laurel nodded again—this time vigorously enough to make her two brains bounce—then skipped off (probably to find Tristan, her twelve-year-old foster brother. The two of them were inseparable).

Artemis sighed and turned back to her budget. They more than broke even each month what with the pension she received from the Ministry each month and the stipend she received from the trust fund her mother had established for her before passing away, but there wasn't a lot of surplus. At least with the children going off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she wouldn't be feeding the always-hungry horde everyday. That would take some strain off the budget. Then again, school had its own set of unique expenses—she knew she'd get plenty of owl-post asking her to send ink, parchment, and spending money. Trying to purchase all the much-needed school supplies in time for the start of term was going to be an adventure in and of itself.

And then there was the matter of Benjamin…

"Howler?" she called out softly to the creature sitting on a wooden perch in the corner.

The great tawny owl turned his eerie yellow eyes towards her and shuffled his feet along the perch.

"Can you take a letter to Uncle Albus for me?" she asked. She pulled a plain envelope sealed with green wax out from under the mess in front of her.

Howler hooted softly as if accepting the request and launched himself from his perch. He landed on the back of the chair beside her and waited patiently for her to hand him the message. Once it was secure in his beak, he flexed his powerful wings and flew out the open window and into the night.

Artemis pushed back her chair and went to the coat rack on the wall behind the backdoor. As usual, it was nearly impossible to find her traveling cloak, as buried as it was beneath her children's things. The gray wool cloak had a slight silver sheen to it that winked in the candlelight as she swirled it on to her shoulders. "Amelia!" she bellowed as she fastened the silver scarab-shaped clasp that held the cloak on.

"What?" The eldest of her adopted children, seventeen-year-old Amelia, came to the kitchen door. She, like her mother, was wearing Muggle clothes, though the combination of colors and prints she had chosen were guaranteed to sear Muggle eyes. She had a text book in one hand and the look of one unfairly interrupted on her face.

"I'm going out for a little bit," Artemis said, "Keep an ear out for your siblings. No snacks, no spells, and try not to blow anything up while I'm gone."

"Mom, you don't have to worry," Amelia said impatiently.

"Says the girl who once set the attic on fire while I was at the bookstore."

"We'll behave, I promise."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Ok—I'll behave and beat the living daylights out of anyone else who gets out of line."

Artemis thought about that for a second. "All right, that I'll believe. I should be back around ten."

Amelia made a shooing motion with her free hand. "Go, Mom, we'll be fine."

And so, Artemis went.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them. Please don't sue me.

Author's Note: In case there was any confusion, Artemis is Albus Dumbledore's niece.

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Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcs., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards), the headmaster of Hogwarts, was sifting through his junk mail when an owl landed on the perch beside Fawkes, the phoenix. Very few birds were that bold. This bird, though, had more right to intrude on Fawkes' space than most—it was, after all, the owl that Dumbledore himself had given to his niece on her first day at Hogwarts, all those years ago.

"Good evening, Master Howler," he greeted the big, tawny owl. He got from behind his desk and walked over to the bird perch. "I trust Artemis and the children are all right." If they weren't then most probably he would have been besieged by birds (all of the children's owls) instead of being graced by the presence of this distinguished fellow.

Howler cocked his head and dropped the envelope he carried in Dumbledore's out-stretched hand. In return, the headmaster gave him one of Fawkes' meat treats (and gave one to the phoenix for good measure). Taking a letter opener with a dragon bone hilt from his desk, he broke the green seal and removed the letter from its envelope. The missive was short and written in Artemis's favorite green ink.

_Uncle Albus,_

_I trust this letter finds you in good spirits and good health. I have a favor to ask of you, and I would like to meet with you tonight at the Three Broomsticks to discuss it._

_love,_

_Artemis_

Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow at the message—he could not recall a time that Artemis had ever asked him for a favor…ever. The girl was startlingly self-efficient and knew her own mind. And, she was determined to make her own place in the wizarding world instead of clinging to the hem of his robes.

"Fawkes, I am going to Hogsmeade," the headmaster informed his friend the phoenix. "I shall return."

He took his dark blue traveling cape down from its peg behind the door and headed out of the office. It was, approximately, eight o'clock at night, and the school was slowly preparing to turn in. This was the hour for minor mischief when the first years went about pranking and the older students snuck in quick make-out sessions in the corners and crevices of the school. He made his way outside and then across the lawn to the gates leading outside of Hogwarts field of charms and spells that kept the school safe. Not being able to Apparate in the school could be an inconvenience at times, but he coped, knowing it was best for the children's safety. Once clear of the school's protections, he Apparated into the village of Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was a large tavern that served very good butterbeer. He stepped inside (having to duck a little so the point of his hat would not scrape the doorframe) and looked around for Artemis. She was seated at a small table in the back, but she stood when he entered.

"Artemis, you are certainly looking fit," Dumbledore greeted his niece with a spine-cracking hug. She did indeed look fit, especially in those Muggle clothes she so favored. She wore a pair of khaki "cargo pants" that fit rather snuggly through the bottom but had a line of highly useful pockets down the side of each leg. Her wand, he noticed, was poking out of one on her right thigh. Her shoes were practical brown hiking boots, and her shirt was a dark green t-shirt with a golden talon on the chest—the logo and colors of her favorite Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies.

She laughed as they took their seats across from one another at the small table. "Sometimes, Uncle, I think chasing after children is harder work than chasing Death Eaters. I pretty sure I've lost weight since quitting my job."

"You do seem more cheerful these days. Are you eating?" His eyes fell on a brown paper sack next to his place at the table, "And what is this?"

"I've ordered some chicken wings—which you are more than welcome to share—and that's for you. It's nothing special, just Chocolate Frogs and some raspberry tarts Amelia made. The girl can _cook_."

"Unlike her foster mother," Dumbledore teased as he separated a squirming frog from its packaging and popped it in his mouth.

Artemis rolled her eyes but didn't have time to comment as Rosemerta set two mugs of butterbeer and a plate of chicken wings down in front of them. "If it weren't for Amelia, we'd starve…I don't know what I'd do without her, and I'm not just talking about the cooking." She shook her head in amazement, making her shoulder-length, light brown hair swing so its natural coppery highlights caught the light.

Dumbledore hid a smile behind his mug. Amelia had been the first child Artemis had adopted, a little over three years ago, and, in the beginning, the two of them had gotten along like cats and dogs. Amelia was very feminine—where as her "mother" obviously was not—and could spend hours in front of the mirror, primping. They had fought over curfews, chores, boyfriends (a particular sticky subject, since Artemis remembered her own boyfriends too well)—basically all the normal things kids and parents fight over, but the fights were made all that much worse since Artemis had still been unsure of her authority over her new daughter. It hadn't helped that his niece had no one to play "good cop" to her "bad" one. But, now, after three rocky years and the addition of quite a few siblings for Amelia, a truce apparently had been reached. "How is Amelia doing these days?" he asked, always curious to hear about his great-nieces and nephews.

"She's doing fine, I guess. Nervous about having to take her N.E.W.T.s this year and having a bit of trouble with her boyfriend." Artemis shrugged as if she didn't quite comprehend what all the fuss was about.

Dumbledore again hid a smile in his butterbeer—he was not going to be the person to bring up Artemis's rather…fiery former relationship with a certain young man. No, not unless he felt like being showered with butterbeer, which actually did not sound like a bad proposition, but he was sure Minerva would have something to say about the smell. "And the others?" he asked, steering the conversation away from Amelia and her boyfriend.

Artemis's lips quirked up in a bemused smile. "They're all going a bit batty from being home all summer—it's going to be a relief to dump them in _your_ lap on the first of September."

"Surely you are exaggerating—my darling great-nieces and nephews have never been anything but perfect angels…" he teased.

She cut him off with a snort. "Are we talking about the same pack of clabberts? Because I happened to be the recipient of no less than forty-three letters home from their professors last year."

"Point taken."

"Well, Laurel wants a pet dragon, Owen's been sulking ever since his team got knocked out of the running for the World Cup—speaking of which, I cannot tell you, Uncle, how grateful I am that you managed to get us all tickets. I haven't told the kids yet, but they're going to love it. Anyway, _somebody_ has been lettering garden gnomes _into the house_. Do you have any idea how hard it is to evict those buggers? Especially from the kids' rooms? You swing a gnome around in there, and you're bound to knock something off the walls."

"I can see how that would become a problem," Dumbledore sympathized as he recalled Artemis's home. After quitting her job at the ministry, she had used most of her savings to purchase a large, run-down house on the outskirts of the quiet village of Bowlershire. The house had five bedrooms (plus a tiny sewing closet with a low, sloping ceiling that Amelia had claimed as _hers_ so she wouldn't have to share) and three and a half bathrooms (the half being a tiny closet under the stairs that had a toilet but no tub or shower). Despite the house's size, it was bursting at the seams with children, animals, and all the other trappings of a wizarding life.

"As I said, I can't wait for school to start," she finished. Picking a chicken wing up from the platter, she tore into it with relish.

Dumbledore watched her eat (and, to be honest, helped with the dispatching of the chicken) for a few minutes until there was nothing but bones on the platter in front of them. He dabbed a bit of grease off his lip and then set the napkin aside. "You mentioned wanting to ask a favor of me."

Artemis sighed. "It's about Benjamin," she said, naming the newest edition to her family.

"How is he adjusting?"

"Fine, except for I think he's been trained in magic before. Either that, or he has an incredible amount of natural talent," she replied. "Either of which would be fine except that he doesn't have very much control—especially in his sleep."

"A sleepwalker?"

Artemis nodded, "And talker. I woke up last night around two o'clock and found all the shoes normally in the mud room instead dancing down the hall towards his bedroom. He was levitating them in his sleep. This is the third night this week that he's done…something without even waking up. Never mind what happens when he gets really and truly angry…" She trailed off and sighed again. "I don't know what to do."

Dumbledore frowned, his bushy eyebrows knitting together over his beak of a nose. "How old do they think he is?"

"With the Memory Charm having obliterated almost all his memories, they can't tell for sure. They think around ten." Benjamin had been found wandering around the streets of London with magically-induced amnesia and the pieces of a broken wand sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His case had caused quite a big stir at the Ministry. It was quite obvious that he was meant to be a wizard, but there was no record of him at Hogwarts—or any of the other European schools either. In fact, he spoke the Queen's English perfectly, so it was doubtful that he was from anywhere but Britain.

"So, another year until he begins at Hogwarts."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Uncle," she said, leaning forward. "Since they aren't quite sure of his birthday, couldn't it be possible to sort of…fudge his age and get him admitted to Hogwarts this year? He could very well be eleven and just small for his age. And, he had that wand in his pocket when they found him. He might have started school someplace else."

"You know as well as I do that none of the other wizarding schools have any record of him attending their institutions."

"Uncle Albus, he needs to learn control, and so far I haven't been able to teach it to him." She started down at her drink as she spoke. He knew how hard it was for her to admit failure, especially when she held herself to such exacting standards. Not for the first time, he wondered if this insistence on being the best wasn't some kind of reaction to being born in his shadow. While he was impressed by the things she was capable of via determination and endurance, he still wished she wouldn't be so bloody hard on herself all the time. "The teachers at Hogwarts will have a better chance at helping him than I will."

Dumbledore regarded her for a long time as he turned the idea around and around in his head. What she was asking was unprecedented, but there were plenty of extenuating circumstances. He understood her unspoken fear that Benjamin might be a danger to his siblings, even unconsciously. And, if the boy was having problems with his temper, then the situation could only get worse as he passed into the heady years of adolescence. Better then, if he was such a strong talent, to teach him control as soon as possible, before the hormones began to flow full-force and risk mucking everything up. "I will need to speak with the Ministry before I can make a final decision. Who is in charge of his case?"

"Fudge is taking a personal interest in it," Artemis said with a sneer for the Minister. "All the publicity, you know." She rolled her eyes.

"Then, I shall have a word with Cornelius on your and Benjamin's behaves."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them. Please don't sue me.

Author's Note: Thanks to AduroWolf for the review. Sorry it's taken so long to update, but other stories have been demanding my attention for quite some time. As for how many children are in the house…

Amelia: 17 years old. Seventh year.

Shiloh: 16 years old. Sixth year.

Celia: 15 years old. Fifth year.

Ian: 14 years old. Fourth year.

Todd: 14 years old. Fourth year.

Tristan: 12 years old. Second year.

Laurel: 11 years old. First year.

Benjamin: 10 years old. First year.

Max: 8 years old.

Katrina: 4 years old.

Lydia ("Lyddie"): 3 years old.

As soon as the door closed on Artemis's heels, Amelia bounded up the front stairs and began banging on bedroom doors. "Mom's gone! Everybody front and center!" Chaos erupted behind each door after she passed.

Laurel and Tristan—a tall, lanky black boy with a buzz cut—poked their heads out of the first door she'd knocked on. "Sham-er-ram," Laurel said to her brother.

"Sheetrock," he replied.

"Twaddle!" added Benjamin—a short, skinny kid with a mop of blond hair that fell into his green eyes—as he pushed passed them and into the hall.

Amelia sighed. The Unholy Trio (as Artemis had dubbed them) had their own private language. It wasn't completely clear if _they_ understood what they were talking about one hundred percent of the time. She opened the fourth and last door on the hall and stuck her head in. Shiloh, the second oldest in the house, sat at his desk, his head bent over a book.

"Katrina, I told you to go away," he snapped when he heard the door open.

Amelia carefully shut the door behind her. "It's me," she told him. "Mom just left."

He made a notation on a scroll beside his book and then turned to look at her. "I'm still not sure if we should do this."

"We have to if we want to find out why Mom's been so distracted lately. Please, Shiloh," she pleaded, "You know we can't do this without your help."

He sighed and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. As the two closest in age and also the first two to join Artemis's little family, he was more comfortable with her than with anyone else in the house. "All right—but if we get caught, I had nothing to do with it."

"We're not going to get caught," she assured him as she opened the door. The Unholy Trio was waiting just outside along with Todd, the fourteen-year-old redhead, and Lyddie, a toddler whose ancestors had hailed from India. She stood on chubby little legs with her thumb in her mouth and one hand clinging to the hem of Laurel's skirt. "All right, troops," she said, clapping her hands together, "To the den. Move out!" She scooped up Lyddie and followed the rest down the kitchen stairs.

They collected Ian, the other fourteen-year-old that Artemis had once dubbed a "hell-raiser", in the kitchen where he'd been making a snack and poking through their foster mother's papers. "Mom's gonna have a bloody hard time buying us school supplies," he muttered to Amelia as they headed through the living room to the den.

Amelia swallowed but didn't say anything. She knew better than Ian how much Artemis had to stretch her finances to make them cover everything, but their mother never complained. Adding one more kid to the house would probably tip them into debt.

The den, when Amelia had moved in, had been declared a "kid-free" zone. That had lasted all of a year before she finally started to let them run in and out. It was generally an over-looked corner of the house good for studying or stealing a quiet moment away from everything else. Most of Artemis's old books were stored in here on floor-to-ceiling shelves. This room also contained the house's one mystery.

Todd dropped to the floor and carefully removed a loose board. The Unholy Trio had found this one rainy afternoon playing tag downstairs. Benjamin's foot had caught on the edge and sent him flying as well as popping the board out of its place in the floor. In the compartment beneath it was an ornately decorated chest. Benjamin, of course, had summoned his two partners in crime when he found it, and they had attempted to open it—getting themselves shocked for their efforts. Artemis hadn't offered them any explanations for what was inside the box but warned them against messing with it again. Since then, the entire household had been curious about what was inside the box. Amelia had looked at it and had figured out the spell to open the lock, but when you lifted the lid, there was a second panel made of tile. It was a puzzle of some sort, and that's why they needed Shiloh.

Todd scooted back from the hole in the floor, giving Amelia room. She took her wand out of the back pocket of her pink denim jeans. With Lyddie balanced on her right hip, she waved her wand at the chest beneath the floor, "Alohomora!" A pretty basic spell learned by most first years, but she was the only one who could put enough force behind it to make it work. Her wand shook, but she held her concentration and was rewarded a second later with the sound of the lock clicking open.

Ian reached in and opened the first lid, revealing the second lid. The tile mosaic depicted a sailboat tossed on a stormy sea while overhead a crescent moon peeped through the dark clouds.

"All right, Shiloh, this is where we need you," she said, turning to the tall, skinny sixteen-year-old standing behind her. "Any idea how to get through that?"

He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and peered down at it. He studied the mosaic for a moment and then sighed heavily. "I cannot believe you hadn't figured this out by now," he said, giving her a disapproving look.

Amelia frowned and shifted Lyddie to the other hip. "What is so obvious?"

"What's Mother's name?"

"Artemis, duh," Laurel replied.

Shiloh reached out and pressed the tiles that made up the moon in the tile image. There was a click, and the mosaic slid aside. "Artemis, the Greek goddess of the moon."

Everybody crowded forward to get a better look. "It's just a bunch of papers and stuff," Max, who was eight, whined.

Todd snorted, "What'd you expect? Buried treasure?"

"No…" Max replied, but everyone knew he was lying.

Amelia set Lyddie down and knelt next to the hole in the floor. Carefully, she lifted out a handful of papers. "These looks like letters," she murmured. A photo that had been hidden under the papers caught her eye. She picked it up and watched as the four young men pictured waved to her. Two had black hair, one had blond, and the fourth and smallest had brown. The black-haired boy on the left—who looked to be her age—blew her a kiss as Laurel leaned over her shoulder to get a better look.

"Hey, that's Harry Potter!" Laurel exclaimed, pointing to the black-haired boy on the right. He did have glasses like Harry—who was in Todd and Ian's year—did, and he certainly looked like Harry…

"But he doesn't have the scar," Amelia pointed out. The trademark lightning bolt scar that made the famous boy-wizard so easy to identify was missing. She turned the photo over to see if there was anything written on the back. "'Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James, seventh year'," she read. "I guess this is Harry Potter's father."

"And that means that's Sirius Black who betrayed Harry's parents," Tristan pointed to the kiss-blowing boy who was now favoring them with a cocky grin. "And that's our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from last year!" His finger poked the blond boy in the forehead. The image's head snapped back and blinked as if it had been struck. "I didn't know he was friends with Black."

"Probably not something he'd want advertised," Ian replied as he snatched the photo from her. "If I'd been friends with the great traitor of wizarding kind in school, I wouldn't want everyone to remember." He frowned at the picture, "This must've been Peter Pettigrew. You-Know-Who blew him to pieces—all they could find was his finger…" He made an evil face at Katrina and Lyddie, and both shrieked.

Amelia smacked his arm. "Quit scaring the little ones." She found a second picture in between some of the letters she'd taken out. This one was of the same four boys outside of Hogwarts—she recognized the castle in the background. The young men were sitting in the grass: the blond one, Remus, studying while the others lounged about. The back read 'Wormtail, Prongs, Padfoot, and Moony "studying" for N.E.W.T.s'. "Weird nicknames," she murmured.

"What's that in his hand?" Celia asked. She was fifteen, very pretty, and extremely shy.

Amelia squinted at the picture, "It looks like a snitch."

"Guess Harry's not the only Quidditch player in the family," Todd, who was a Ravenclaw Beater, commented. He opened one of the letters Amelia had set aside. "'Dear Artemis, When you asked me to the Yule Ball, I hadn't been planning on going, but I'm glad I did and that I went with you, even if Prongs and Moony gave me hell for taking a first year.'"

"Mom went to the Yule Ball when she was only eleven!" Ian said in disbelief as he tried to grab the letter from Todd. Todd managed to keep the scrap of parchment out of his foster brother's hand. "Come on…who's it signed by?"

"There's no signature—just the letter 'S'." Todd held the letter out to Amelia.

She took it and looked down at the bottom. Sure enough, just a hastily scratched letter 'S'.

"You…you don't think it could have been Sirius Black, do you?" Celia whispered.

"No way!" Max yelled. "Mom was an Auror—she's got crazy, mad Auror-senses—she would have taken one look at Black and thought 'that's a future Death Eater' and probably hexed him!"

"Did they have Death Eaters when Mom was in school?" Tristan asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together.

"I don't know," Amelia answered distractedly as she started gathering the letters and pictures up. "Come on, guys, let's put this stuff away before Mom gets home."

TBC…the kids try to quiz Artemis—subtly—about who 'S' was, and the Quidditch World Cup!


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them. Please don't sue me.

Author's Note: Yes, I know it's been a _very_ long time, but my life has been _very_ hectic lately. Thanks to chubz88 for taking the time to drop me a line.

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"Mom!" Again, Laurel succeeded in dragging out the word for far longer than anyone else Artemis had ever heard. "Ian took my purse!"

"Ian, give back your sister's purse," Artemis commanded absently as she paused to open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. She propped it open with her foot (she had Lyddie balanced on one hip and Katrina on the other) and did a quick head count as the kids filed past. Nine plus the two in her arms. The little girls were really too big to be carried, but she didn't want to risk losing them in the hustle and bustle of either Muggle London or Diagon Alley.

"Fiddles and mulch," Laurel sneered at Ian. The fourteen-year-old's oh-so mature response was to stick out his tongue at her.

Artemis let the door shut behind her and bumped the teen with her hip, herding him in the direction of the pub's courtyard. "Head straight to the back, and, no, Todd, we're not stopping for drinks." The other fourth year—who hadn't even had the chance to get a single word out—snapped his mouth shut, a look of disappointment on his face. The only access into Diagon Alley was through the Leaky Cauldron; otherwise she'd have not brought the family in here. Not that this was a particular rough pub (she'd spent more than enough time in those during her days as an Auror, thank you very much), but it was dingy and had a slightly disreputable air to it. Of course, Todd and Ian were enamored. The Unholy Trio seemed more excited about what lay beyond the pub—today, both Laurel and Benjamin were getting their wands.

Uncle Albus had sent her a message by owl post saying that while there was still no official word from Fudge about whether or not Benjamin could start school this year, he _strongly_ believed that the boy would be allowed in. They wouldn't know until right before the term started. Between hosting the World Cup and some other secretive project that she'd been hearing rumors about, the Minister of Magic didn't seem to have the time to expend much thought over the matter of a small, blond boy. She'd decided to treat it as if they had been given the ok and buy him his school supplies today, along with the rest. If all else failed, then they could always save them until next year. The kind of wand Benjamin needed was not going to change in twelve months.

They were going now, before the World Cup, in hopes of not only avoiding the pre-term rush but also maybe getting a few discounts. She'd spent the last couple of nights meticulously combing the house for books that could be handed down to the younger children. This morning, she'd made the final notation on the list that was now tucked into the pocket of her robe. They should have everything by the time they headed home tonight…theoretically. In a perfect world, Amelia's things could be handed down to Shiloh who in turn would hand them to Celia and so on. Unfortunately, they didn't live in a perfect world, and children damaged books beyond use, took different electives, and came—in the case of Ian and Todd and now Laurel and Benjamin—two to a year.

"Can you hold her?" Artemis asked Amelia as they stepped out the pub's back door and into a tiny courtyard. Except for a trash can in dire need of emptying and a handful of weeds, there was nothing inside of it. After transferring Lyddie to Amelia's arms, Artemis took her wand from her pocket and touched it three times against a certain brick in the courtyard wall. As they watched, a hole opened in the wall and grew into an archway leading into Diagon Alley—the wizarding world's equivalent of a shopping mall. "First stop, Madam Malkin's," she directed her brood. "Ian and Todd need dress robes, and Benjamin and Laurel need the basics." This statement elicited tortured groans from her two adolescent sons.

"Mom…" Ian started to whine a whine worthy of Laurel.

She glared at him. "What?"

It was Todd who answered. "I've seen pictures of people in dress robes, Mom. They're just not our style."

"Yeah," his brother backed him up, "I ain't wearing no lace."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about lace?"

"All the robes in those pictures have lace around the collar—even on the guys' stuff," Todd explained.

"Well, I think the current fashions don't have any lace, so you won't have to worry about that," she assured him as she pushed open the door to the robe shop. "But you'll each need a set for Yule Ball."

"I ain't going to any stupid dance," Ian groused, folding his arms over his chest. He was shorter than Todd and stockier, the only one of her boys who didn't look like he'd blow away in a strong wind.

"I went to my first Yule Ball in my first year," Artemis informed him, giving him a look that warned she wasn't going to tolerate much more nonsense from him.

So focused on the two fourteen-year-olds was she that she missed the weighted look that passed between Shiloh and Amelia. As Shiloh shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Amelia turned to her mother and asked, "So who asked you to the dance, Mom?"

Artemis looked back at her eldest, startled. "I…um, I don't remember." It was a lie, and both mother and daughter knew it. "I didn't know him very well." Maybe, if she kept going, this would sound more plausible. "He thought I was cute, so he asked me to be his date." She felt a flush spread over her cheekbones.

"Was he good-looking?" Amelia asked at the same time Celia murmured, "Did you have a good time?" The sisters turned and looked at one another after the questions had left their mouths. Celia ducked her head, suddenly intent on studying the floorboards. Amelia just returned her attention to her foster mother, her brown eyes taking in every twitch of movement on Artemis's face.

"Yes, he was very good-looking," Artemis answered with a sigh, "And, yes, we had a good time—a very good time. Now, can we please get some shopping done?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ belongs to J. K. Rowling, not me. I write this thing for entertainment purposes only and make no money off of it.

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The sign above the door read 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'. This time of the afternoon, with the term still several weeks away, there was only one other customer inside. Madam Malkin bustled over at the sight of Artemis's family crowding through the door.

"Oh, goodness me!" the squat little witch declared, "For all of them?"

Artemis shook her head. "We just need the standard Hogwarts robes for these two." She gave Laurel and Benjamin little pushes that propelled them out of the pack and straight in front of the seamstress. "And dress robes for Todd and…" She looked around. "Where's Ian?"

Amelia, Todd, and Max just shrugged. Celia, though, suddenly seemed very fascinated by the toes of her shoes.

"Celia, where did Ian go?" Artemis demanded. The fifteen-year-old would never lie to her. Not to her face at least. It had taken over a year and one very nasty encounter with Celia's biological father before the girl had begun to trust her new mother. That trust though, once given, was pure and absolute…and more than a little frightening to Artemis.

"He…he said he wanted to buy a broom repair kit," she replied softly.

Artemis sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Shiloh, go find your brother and get him back here."

Her oldest son, who had been lurking at the back of the group with his nose in a book, gave an eye roll of his own but went back outside.

"I'm sorry about that," Artemis said as she turned back to Madam Malkin.

"Don't worry about it, dear," the little witch assured her, "He's not the first to make a fuss." She gestured for Laurel and Benjamin to climb up on to stools and popped plain black robes over their heads. "But I can almost promise you that by mid-term when he's found some pretty young girl to be his sweetheart, he'll find himself actually looking forward to the Yule Ball. Then, he'll be thankful that his mother saw fit to buy him a nice set of dress robes. Can't embarrass your lady-love by taking her to the dance dressed like a sad sack, now can you?"

The question was aimed at Benjamin who was doing a very good job of looking bored as Madam Malkin's assistant pinned up the hem of the robe so he wouldn't trip over it.

"Well, dear, aren't you going to answer the question?" the witch prodded.

"Girls are dumb," he mumbled.

Laurel reached over and slugged him on the shoulder. He turned to hit her back, but Artemis's noisily clearing her throat made him pause.

Madam Malkin just laughed. "Give it a few years, dear, and then you'll find yourself thinking otherwise."

Benjamin grumbled something under his breath.

"Can I hit him again?" Laurel asked, a little too enthusiastically.

"No," was Artemis's automatic answer.

Katrina, who had been let down, wandered over to inspect the work being done on her brother's hemline. The little dark-skinned girl was wearing her pink princess dress today, along with a plastic crown perched in between her three twisted pigtails, each held at the end with a butterfly barrette. "I want dress robes too," the four-year-old informed the seamstress's assistant.

"Tough," Laurel snapped. "You're too little for dress robes."

"Am not!" the little girl insisted, stamping her foot.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Artemis opened her mouth to break up this fight as well, but before she could get a word out, Todd crouched down in front of Katrina. "You don't want dress robes."

Katrina's brow furrowed. "Yes, I do."

"But they would cover up your nice pink dress," the red-head pointed out, poking his sister's belly. "And then nobody would see it."

The logic was sound…and simple enough for a four-year-old mind. Katrina relented and allowed her big brother to pick her up and take her over to the window. Artemis suppressed a smile at the sight of them together. Katrina, she had received as an infant. The Ministry had found her in a Muggle orphanage and had gotten her out as soon as they discovered her wizarding potential. It was one of the many things Uncle Albus had done for the magical world. Lord Voldemort had once been a boy named Tom Riddle, forced to live in a Muggle orphanage when he wasn't at Hogwarts. Of course, there was no way to prove that that was why he'd become evil, but it wasn't something Artemis thought the wizarding community should dismiss. Hence, her mission to give orphaned magical children a home. Todd's parents had been killed by Death Eaters several days before James and Lily Potter were murdered. An elderly aunt had cared for him until her death last year.

Artemis crossed over to him and rested her hand gently on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He looked up at her with icy blue eyes. "Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know—you've just seemed kind of distant these past week or so."

"I've just been thinking."

"About what?" she asked as she relieved him of Katrina.

"Stuff."

She swatted at him, herding him over to a rack of ready-to-wear dress robes. "That's not a real answer." Balancing the four-year-old on one hip, she flicked through the hangars of robes. "Blue or green?"

"What?"

"Do you want blue or green robes? Or, yellow, I suppose, would look good with your hair."

"I don't know," Todd muttered.

"That one!" Katrina thrust a finger out at the rack, barely brushing against a light, icy blue robe the same color as Todd's eyes. Artemis pulled it off the rack and held it up to his chest.

"Well, your sister's got good taste," she admitted. "It matches your eyes, it doesn't clash with your hair, and…" she looked down at the hem, "It's actually long enough. Are you sure everything's ok?"

"Yeah, I swear."

"Then cheer up. I've got a surprise for all of you later."

"A surprise?" Katrina perked up at those words. "What's it?"

"If I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise."


End file.
